


Harvard University x Yale University (Enemies to Lovers)

by spicychickensandwch



Category: Academia (Anthropomorphic)
Genre: Academia, Alternate Universe - High School, Cheating, Crack Relationships, Crack Treated Seriously, Crack and Angst, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Secret Relationship, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:08:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28488822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spicychickensandwch/pseuds/spicychickensandwch
Summary: Hi,I would like to clarify that I started writing this completely out of spite, and somewhere along the line, I started taking it seriously. I sent it to my friends, as I do with most of the crack fics I write in my spare time, and they somehow got invested in it. They prompted me to create an account and post it here, to which I reluctantly obliged. I wasn't sure I'd be able to find an audience for such a work here, but after browsing around a little, I've come to the conclusion that AO3 is where sanity comes to die. I'm a bit worried to post this, if I'm being honest, out of fear that future employers or—even worse in this case—college admissions officers might find it: the idea that I am willingly documenting this on the internet for anyone to see is quite terrifying, but hopefully someone somewhere will be able to derive some enjoyment from this cliché-riddled story. I would like to reiterate that this is completely, 420% a joke and in no way intended to be taken seriously.With love, Spicy.
Relationships: Harvard University/Yale University
Comments: 8
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi,
> 
> I would like to clarify that I started writing this completely out of spite, and somewhere along the line, I started taking it seriously. I sent it to my friends, as I do with most of the crack fics I write in my spare time, and they somehow got invested in it. They prompted me to create an account and post it here, to which I reluctantly obliged. I wasn't sure I'd be able to find an audience for such a work here, but after browsing around a little, I've come to the conclusion that AO3 is where sanity comes to die. I'm a bit worried to post this, if I'm being honest, out of fear that future employers or—even worse in this case—college admissions officers might find it: the idea that I am willingly documenting this on the internet for anyone to see is quite terrifying, but hopefully someone somewhere will be able to derive some enjoyment from this cliché-riddled story. I would like to reiterate that this is completely, 420% a joke and in no way intended to be taken seriously.
> 
> With love, Spicy.

Yale couldn't stand Harvard.

There was really no other way he could put it; he despised the guy. He hated the god-awful crimson colour he wore every single fucking day, he detested his holier-than-thou attitude that never seemed to cease, and above all, he loathed how he always seemed to come second to Harvard in everything he did.

Well, technically third. MIT would be second, but who gives a shit about that fucking nerd.

Despite their rivalry, Yale could never seem to get rid of Harvard. He hung around like a bad smell, constantly lingering in the air, just so happening to be wherever Yale was. He even tried to call him out on it once, only to be met with mockery from Harvard.

"𝘉𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘚𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘮𝘱, 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥."

Harvard's words rang in his ears as he walked to his economics class. Yale was determined to make a good impression on his first day; for once, he had a chance to prove himself better than Harvard. He wasn't even taking economics this year! First place was Yale's for the taking, absolutely nothing could foil his plans this year!

As he walked to room 228 with a skip in his step, Yale made note of the figure in front of him. He squinted his eyes as he watched a young male with a tall, stocky build, adorned with a crimson sweatshirt enter the very class he was on his way to.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, this is completely not serious at all and definitely, 100% a joke.

No.

No, no, no, no, no.

This couldn't fucking be happening.

Yale sprinted down the hallway, staring in disbelief at the door he had watched the figure enter. As he walked into the classroom, he scanned the room for the crimson-clad man.

Sure enough, there was Harvard, sitting next to the only open seat left in the classroom.

Yale reluctantly shuffled over to the empty chair and situated himself next to Harvard and USC at the circular table. He glanced upwards and caught a glimpse of Harvard's amused expression.

"Pleasure you could join us, pretty boy," he grinned as his chocolate brown eyes gleamed.

Yale rolled his eyes, muttering curses under his breath. He fixed his eyes on the table, determined to ignore all of Harvard's mockery. His gaze trailed all the way across to Harvard's hands. Yale remarked how large and veiny they were, the blue-tinted vessels webbing their way over his caramel skin. He didn't know hands could be so muscular.

𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘶𝘺 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘢 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘦 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘳, Yale thought to himself.

After what felt like an eternity of staring at Harvard's perfectly toned hands, Yale was snapped out of his daze by the sound of their teacher entering the room. He scrambled to organize himself, much to Harvard's amusement. 

The class seemed to go on forever as Yale faded in and out of focus, his mind wandering anywhere it wanted to as he desperately attempted to catch its attention with the lesson at hand. By the end of class, he was more lost in terms of economics than when he had started.

"That concludes our introduction to basic economic concepts!" The teacher announced.

𝘙𝘌𝘚𝘌𝘈𝘙𝘊𝘏 𝘉𝘈𝘚𝘐𝘊 𝘌𝘊𝘖𝘕𝘖𝘔𝘐𝘊 𝘊𝘖𝘕𝘊𝘌𝘗𝘛𝘚, Yale frantically scribbled onto his paper.

"Oh, I almost forgot," their teacher chimed. "Y'all have a project on this due next week, you'll be working in your table groups to complete it!"

Yale swore he felt his heart stop in his chest. He paused his frantic note-taking to gaze up at his partners: clueless USC and god-awful, crimson-clad Harvard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Existence Was A Mistake

It was USC who finally broke the silence.

"So... do you guys have any idea what the fuck is going on?" She asked in her pristine, Californian valley girl accent.

Yale shook his head. 

"No..." he muttered.

Harvard however, launched into a full-on lecture, explaining the lesson in excruciating detail to USC. Yale rolled his eyes and cringed as Harvard waved his hands around, violently gesticulating as he reviewed those basic economic concepts. He could feel his blood boil in his veins. Harvard, fucking Harvard, goddamn fucking trust-fund-baby Harvard had once again finessed his way to the top. 

Yale observed the expressions on USC's face. She genuinely looked interested in Harvard's mini-lesson: she nodded along as he rambled on and on, tapping her well-kept acrylic nails on the table and batting her long, mascara-coated eyelashes at him. She obviously found Harvard attractive, but then again, who didn't. On top of his perfect grades, Harvard somehow managed to get all of the girls swooning. 

"𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘨𝘦," he remembered his friend Barnard saying. "𝘐 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘥𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘯 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩 𝘴𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘢 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘮."

"𝘏𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶?" Yale asked.

Barnard looked up from her computer to slide her cat-eye glasses down her nose and glare at him, before rolling her eyes.

Despite all of this, Yale couldn't recall Harvard ever having been in a relationship.

The bell rang, and Yale was jerked out of his daze. 

"Are you guys free to work on this project after school today?" USC asked.

"Yeah I'm free whenever," Yale responded.

"I can't actually," Harvard shrugged. "I have an internship at my dad's law firm."

Of course he fucking did.

"Oh-okay.." USC replied. "How about tomorrow after school?"

"I would," Harvard countered. "But I have a student council meeting, and since I'm student body president, I can't miss that."

Yale clenched his fists as his face grew hotter and hotter with anger redder than Harvard's crimson sweatshirt.

"Tomorrow before school?" USC pleaded.

"Sorry," Harvard shrugged. "I have swim practice."

USC was clearly growing frustrated with Harvard's packed schedule. 

"What about tomorrow at lunch?" She asked.

Yale watched the gears grinding in Harvard's head as he searched for the answer to USC's question.

"That works!" He grinned.

"Great!" She sighed. "See you then," she shot the two boys a smile as she spun on her heels and pranced out of the classroom, her platinum blonde curls bouncing off her shoulders.

•••

Yale made his way down to the cafeteria, his tattered black sneakers tapping against the polished linoleum floors of T20 High School. Not even two hours into the day, and Harvard had already ruined it. 

Harvard.

Fucking Harvard.

Yale couldn't stand Harvard.

The cafeteria was filled with boisterous noise that seeped it's way through Yale's worn Apple earbuds and filled every corner of his brain. He couldn't quite think straight, the sounds of chatter clouding his thoughts. He glanced at the tables in search of his friends, until finally, he spotted Barnard and UChicago sitting at a table towards the back corner. 

Yale made his way over to them. As he stumbled across the cafeteria, he almost tripped over the straps of Harvard's black backpack, lying on the ground at his feet.

"Watch it, Twinkletoes," he warned, much to the amusement of MIT who sat across from him.

Yale scoffed as he approached the table at which his friends sat. He glanced down at UChicago's laptop, filled with lines upon lines of code. He shifted his gaze across the table to Barnard's sketchbook.

"Is that hentai?" He asked, squinting at the thin, graphite lines on the paper.

"Mind your own fucking business Yale," She exclaimed, snapping the sketchbook shut as she glared at him with her sharp, hazel eyes.

He laughed as he took a seat next to UChicago and pulled out his laptop to catch up on everything he missed in class earlier.

Barnard glanced at the title scribbled on his paper

"Basic economic concepts?" she inquired. "Weren't you supposed to have learned this earlier?"

"I couldn't think straight," Yale responded, his dark blue vision orbs staying fixed on his computer screen.

"Guess we have that in common," she giggled.

"We get it Barnard, you're a homo," UChicago teased.

Yale smiled at the two of them. Time with them was just what he needed to elevate his mood. Maybe his next class wouldn't be so bad after all. 

Yale was snapped out of his thoughts by the sound of a large group entering the cafeteria.

"Motherfucker," UChicago uttered.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a really short chapter (my apologies) as it was from before I actually started putting a bit more effort into this. I like to think it gets a little bit better later on??? But regardless thank you for reading <3


End file.
